Penumbra
by aghamora
Summary: Éponine is the sweetest, most painful torture he's ever known. - - Éponine/Javert, smut.
1. Sore

**Summary: **Éponine is the sweetest, most painful torture he's ever known. - - Éponine/Javert, smut.

**Warning: **Rated M for angry!sex, S&M, bondage, and overall dirtiness.

**Note: **I wrote this because the smut in my other fic doesn't come for a while, and also because I couldn't help myself. It features established Éponine/Javert and there's really no background for their relationship in this; it's shameless PWP. If I happen to write some more E/J smut, I'll put it with this, so for now I'm going to say this is a work in progress series of dirty oneshots.

Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing you recognize.

* * *

_**Penumbra**_

_**n.** a partial shadow, as in an eclipse, between regions of complete shadow and complete illumination._

* * *

They'd been fighting for so long that neither Éponine nor Javert was entirely certain just what, exactly, they were fighting about.

What Éponine could remember was that, somehow, her criminal past had been brought up during a polite conversation over supper, and that Javert had made some offhand remark that had angered her – and after that, things had only spiraled downhill. She'd gotten up from the table and hissed an insult back at him – something about his ridiculous dedication to his job, she supposed – to which he had only replied with more unkind words. Their argument had escalated with haste then, and though both were aware that it was pointless and unnecessary, neither was willing to back down and admit that they were wrong, or apologize and try to put an end to the fight, for however headstrong and determined Javert was, Éponine was equally so, and neither one of them intended to be the first to admit that they were in the wrong. Admitting they were would be akin to admitting defeat, and Éponine and Javert were loath to ever do such a thing. So they fought, slinging harsh, biting words at one another without thinking them over first and only pushing their furies to greater heights, until both were seeing red and quite incapable of rational thinking.

They fought, and when Éponine and Javert fought, the little flat they shared became a veritable warzone. Javert was not overly fond of yelling unless it was needed, and as he fought with her, his words were spoken lowly, with a bone-chilling growl that would send shivers up most everyone's spine – except Éponine's, for, though she'd once been long ago, she was no longer scared of him. She, on the other hand, was quite fond of yelling indeed and also fond of gesticulating about wildly, as if doing so could somehow better prove her point. As such, their fight was a curious mixture of low growls, loud yells and exclamations, and the wild motions of Éponine's hands, and it was in this manner that they carried on for hours, until it was the dead of night and both were becoming too weary to continue their argument.

"This is a ridiculous argument," the Inspector hissed, storming towards her and grabbing hold of both her shoulders as if he meant to shake some sense into her, "Let the matter go."

"No!" she spat, and when he shook her gently and scowled, she narrowed her eyes and bit out a sardonic laugh, "What're you going to do? Hit me? I'm not afraid of a little pain. Go on. Hit me!"

He sneered. Perhaps if he was less of a man he'd be content to strike her, but he had too much honor to ever lay a hand on her, and both of them knew it. Once again, he sneered, releasing her and backing away in disgust, "I am not going to hit you."

"Why not?" she demanded, too angry to think her words over in truth, "Do I not make you angry enough to? Or are you a _coward_?" she goaded him, grabbing his arm and yanking him close to her roughly, "_Hit me_."

More appalled by the idea than he could ever say, he wrenched his forearm out of her grasp and let out a furious breath, "I am going to bed." He paused for a moment, then rasped, "I will sleep in the guest room. We shall speak in the morning."

Éponine ground her teeth together so hard that it hurt her jaw, taking a deep breath and struggling to hold her tongue. After a moment, she lowered her eyes and managed to mutter calmly, "All right." Then, she looked up at him and exhaled slowly, "Goodnight."

With a tense nod at her, Javert turned and took his leave from the room, disappearing down the hallway and into the bedroom. He closed the door loudly behind him, and Éponine took a breath, then sunk down onto the sofa and let all the air out of her lungs. Her body and mind were thoroughly exhausted, and she felt utterly foolish for letting their fight get so incredibly out of hand. She would not deny that she hated fighting with Javert – she cared deeply for him, more than she'd ever cared for anyone – but there were, inevitably, times when her past and his occupation and beliefs clashed. It seemed as though it never failed to hang over the two of them, and whenever her life as a criminal was brought up, it was difficult to brush aside, or sweep under the rug like a bothersome bit of dust. Out of nowhere, Éponine felt a sudden surge of fury rush through her veins. Her past was not her fault, she decided, and he had no right to hold her accountable for it. If she could she'd erase it in a second, and it infuriated her to think that she never could, that it would remain with her for all of eternity, that he might perhaps always blame her for it.

Well, she thought, she would have none of that. Abruptly, she felt the urge to make him pay for thinking such a thing, to – she didn't know – punish him? The thought seemed odd to her, but as a plan came together in her mind, she began to fancy the idea more and more. There was a sudden sadistic burning in the pit of her stomach, an urge to make him feel pain, and though it left her confused, it excited her as well. Their sex had never been gentle; it was always rough, always dominated entirely by him, and she was sick of it, of being submissive and letting him take charge. Impatiently, Éponine waited in their living room for an hour or so, until she knew it was likely that he was asleep. Then, she got to her feet with a devious little grin pulling at her lips. As quietly as she could, she crept down the hallway, pulled open the door to the bedroom, and slipped inside almost without making a sound. Once she'd approached the bed and watched him for a few minutes, she found that he was fast asleep, and it seemed to her that it wasn't likely he would awake anytime soon. His breathing was deep and even, and Éponine thought that he appeared quite tired by their lengthy argument. Encouraged, she scampered out of the spare bedroom and into the master bedroom, grabbed a few of his cravats from the dresser, and then returned to where he slept. With all the stealth and cunning of a feline, she took hold of one of his forearms, wrapped the tie around it, bound it to the bedpost, and then did the same with his other arm.

Somehow, she managed not to wake him, and once she'd secured both his arms and removed her dress and undergarments, she climbed on top of him, straddling his legs and shaking him lightly. This caused him to stir, yet he still did not fully awake, and eventually, after trying to failing to rouse Javert and growing immensely frustrated once more with him, she reached down and slapped his cheek as hard as she could. Finally, his eyes flew open wide, and it took his mind a moment to register the feeling of the ties on his hands, to realize that the naked body straddling him belonged to none other than Éponine.

Bewildered, he blinked several times, then looked up at her and demanded, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" her voice was airy, light, yet for some reason she did not feel even a little nervous as he took in the sight of her body hungrily, beginning to grow hard against his will.

"This is absurd," he hissed as he struggled against his bindings, "Untie me."

"No," she spat, suddenly just as furious as she'd been before, "I'm still angry at you, and I-"

"And what?"

Éponine scowled at his interruption, then declared bravely, "Now I'm going to punish you."

Fighting off the burning sensation in his loins, he scoffed, "And what are you going to do?"

She leaned down and brought her mouth close to his ear, but did not kiss him and only hissed, "I'm going to touch myself, right here, right in front of you." She bit her lip, smirked again, and looked him directly in the eyes, her gaze fearless and daring, "And you're not going to be able to lay a hand on me."

It was bold, she knew, but at that moment, as she saw the lust burning black in his eyes and felt his hardness swelling beneath her, she had never wanted to use her body to torment him more. Already he was pulling against the ties on his wrists, and though Javert knew he could doubtlessly break free if he tried hard enough, his entire body became paralyzed as he watched her slink away from him on the bed, bringing one of her hands slowly to her right breast and cupping it as if discovering its presence for the first time. Her gaze did not deviate from his as she began to caress her hardened nipple, and he shivered as he felt his manhood begin to rise with desire from underneath his nightclothes. He was fighting to keep his arousal in check, to stop himself from exhibiting the helplessness he knew she wanted to see, but he could sense that he would soon lose all semblance of self-control if she persisted in doing what she was doing. He swallowed as he watched her continue to tease her nipples for a moment, and then, his breathing began to speed up significantly as she traced her hand down her stomach slowly, until she'd reached the short patch of hair between her legs. Still on her knees before him, Éponine eased her hand downward until her fingers brushed gently over her clitoris and slipped over her sensitive folds. She trembled and inhaled sharply, bringing her other hand back up to her breast and continuing to play with it as well. When she felt a flood of wetness in between her legs and heard Javert groan, she smiled and flicked her alert clit harder, intent on giving herself as much pleasure as she could manage and torturing him as she did so.

Javert yearned desperately to close his eyes, to tear his gaze away from her, but he could not do so no matter how hard he tried, and he roared in frustration. When he spoke, his voice was low, unsteady, and held a dangerous, warning tone to it, "Éponine…"

She, however, was paying little mind to the Inspector now, though she was still very much aware of the effect she had on him. She'd not pleasured herself in a long time, having had Javert to do it for her in recent months, and she'd forgotten how wonderful it was to be in control of the shivers of pleasure that were passing through her, to be the master of her own desire and not at the mercy of anyone else. Unwilling to remain upright any longer, she laid her body down on the end of the bed, making sure she was still perfectly visible to Javert and able to drive him wild. She stroked her fingers gently over her clit for another minute, and when she felt more moisture bloom within her entrance, she finally brought two of her fingers to her slit, moaning aloud as she traced them around it and coated them in her wetness. Javert was sweating, so aroused that he could hardly think clearly, could hardly do anything but watch her and wish for everything that he was that he could reach out and touch her, give her the pleasure she was giving herself. He thought that he might lose control when she finally pushed two of her fingers inside of herself, arching her back off the bed and crying out softly as she did so. As she thrust her fingers in and out at a slow, languid pace, Éponine found herself only able to think of Javert, of him doing this to her, and her cheeks flushed with color.

She picked up her pace, moaning wantonly. After a while, his name began to escape her lips, and she could not find the will to stifle it, "_Javert_…"

The Inspector felt himself pushed towards his own climax, and he felt like a fool when he realized how close he was to finishing even without having touched her at all. He refused to come, to give her the sign of weakness that she wanted, but he could not fight off the thrill that pounded through him when she began to pant his name over and over as her fingers rubbed at her clit with more urgency, dipping them into her vagina every other few moments and moving the wetness back up to her sensitive bud. Never before had he watched a woman touch herself, and he was fascinated by the way her breasts heaved, the way her fingers slid in and out of her slick entrance, the way her back arched off the bed. He squeezed his eyes closed, his body aching to touch her – or, at the very least, touch himself, but, because he was restrained, he could do no such thing, and he did not think he'd ever been in such pain. Her mewls and yelps grew higher, her pace faster, her fingers diving deeper and deeper inside, and she felt her climax fast approaching. When she remembered that Javert was watching, a smirk of satisfaction crossed her lips, and she felt the urge to snicker, but couldn't summon the strength to do so.

When she finally came, her entire body shuddered and her hips bucked, and as she rode the waves of her orgasm, Javert was forced to only watch, the persistent hardness between his legs desperate and aching for attention. He was so close to coming himself that he feared only one touch from Éponine would send him over the edge, and, once she'd calmed herself and crawled up to him again, he moaned, "Éponine…"

She smirked, bringing her lips to his neck and breathing against his skin, "I-I was thinking of you, you know." Her lithe hands wandered about his body, brushing over his groin and drawing a grunt from him. She sighed against his mouth, "Imagining it was your fingers on me. _In_ me." His mouth incapable of coherent speech, the only thing Javert could do was buck his hips and growl under his breath, in a wordless attempt to communicate to her what he wanted. She grinned triumphantly, but decided to have mercy on him for a moment, and slipped her hand underneath his nightclothes, taking hold of his painfully hard member and relishing in each frantic, choked sound he made. A sense of power flowed through her veins, and she purred, "I know what you want. But you'll have to ask me nicely, first." She laughed and then half-sang, "Say the magic word."

Though he yearned for nothing more than her touch, he refused to show such weakness, and so he snarled, "_No_."

She frowned, and all at once, the urge to see him in pain once more returned to her. She clenched her jaw and brought her hand to his face, digging her sharp nails into his flesh and dragging them down his cheek. Within seconds, droplets of blood began to push themselves up through his skin, and he hissed in pain and desire as she moved her lips to the cuts on his cheek and kissed them, finding that the taste of his blood on her lips only served to excite her further. Once more, she struck him, and took pleasure in the sound of flesh hitting flesh when it met her ears. Éponine could not say what had come over her, why she was so keen to see him suffer, but she did not intend to stop, and though the Inspector was in pain, he did not want her to. His mind was numb, this thoughts cloudy, and the only thing he could do was lie there and let her do what she would with him, punish him however she saw fit. She seized his mouth with hers, biting down hard on his lower lip, then moved her lips to his neck, where she sucked and bit on the skin there as well, praying all the while that he would bear the marks of their rough lovemaking in the morning.

Eager to be rid of his nightclothes, she made short work of the barriers between their skin, unbuttoning and yanking them off of him and throwing them aside. Once he was nude beneath her, it was clear to Éponine how aroused he really was, his member throbbing, erect, yearning for her touch. But she did not intend to give him what he wanted – not yet, at least. She was hungry for his pain, eager to see him persist in his helplessness, and within moments, she had placed both her hands upon his firm chest, dug her nails into his skin, and then clawed up that part of him as well, attacking him as though she was some kind of vicious predator. Javert, too overwhelmed to think clearly, moaned, but the pain only made him desire her more, and he wondered for a brief moment when he'd become so masochistic, so readily accepting of pain with his pleasure. As he watched himself bleed, and felt her kiss the crimson drops on his chest, however, he moaned, squeezing his eyes closed and praying that Éponine would finally give in and untie him so that he would be able to get the release his body was straining for.

She did no such thing, and after a while, Javert decided he could take no more of her teasing. Somehow – and he knew not how – he managed to wrestle one of his hands free from its restraint, and then he untied the other with haste. Before Éponine had time to react, he'd flipped their positions, and wasted no in time in pinning her arms down, positioning himself between her legs, and entering her all at once, unable to handle any more foreplay in his desperate, animalistic state. Though she had not been finished with him, she was quite unable and unwilling to push him off of her, and instead only wrapped her legs around him eagerly, spreading them wider and allowing him as deep inside of her as he could go. He felt huge within her, impressive in length and thickness as he was, and with a moan, she brought her hands to his back, clawing into his skin as he thrust into her with abandon. Because of his rapid pace, they both reached their climaxes with haste, but once they had finished and he'd pulled out of Éponine, she yanked him back down on top of her, her body's hunger not yet adequately satiated. She had hurt him, she knew – for it was evident by the blood and scratches that littered his chest – and she felt herself aching to be hurt in return, her body craving the delicious kind of pain she'd given him.

"Fuck me. Hard," she ordered hoarsely. He eyed her with something akin to trepidation, and she pulled him closer to her roughly, "I want it to hurt me to walk in the morning."

She locked her legs firmly around him, entangling their limbs and making it difficult for him to pull away – but even if Javert wanted to, he was not sure he was capable of doing so. He moved his lips to her neck, then, and began to bite and suck on the skin there, prompting her to wriggle beneath him and hiss. Occasionally, he would bite down on her skin hard enough to draw blood, and Éponine let out a noise that sounded like something between a gasp and a laugh when he did. The throbbing in between her legs grew stronger, the pleasure and pain overwhelming her senses, and her breath hitched in her throat when he placed his hands on her back, digging his short fingernails into her soft skin and dragging them down, in the same way she'd done to him. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but it did send a stinging sensation through her, and when she felt his mouth begin to descend lower and lower, her breath hitched in her throat. Pausing in his journey downward, he moved his mouth to her left breast, brushing his teeth against her hardened nipple, then nibbling on it for a moment until he tore his lips away. She mewled in disapproval, but was silenced when, only moments later, she felt his breath on the inside of her thigh, and she spread her legs eagerly, giving him easier access to her wet, burning womanhood. He did not, however, use his tongue to delve inside of her, and instead only grazed his teeth roughly over her clit, forcing Éponine back to arch off the bed and give a high-pitched gasp. He continued to rake his teeth across her sensitive bud, and delighted in the desperate sounds that escaped her mouth all the while. He could feel the heat and wetness radiating from her opening, but he did not go near it, intent on tormenting her like she'd tormented him.

He felt Éponine bury her fingers in his hair, but when she tried to pull him closer, he removed his lips from her clitoris and dipped a few of his fingers inside her, savoring the feeling of her juices covering them. He adjusted himself so that he was on top of her once more, and gradually traced his hand up her stomach, leaving a trail of wetness behind and forcing a shudder through her naked body. He brought his hand close to her mouth, resting it against her chin, and she narrowed her eyes, then took one of his fingers into her mouth daringly, and moaned as she tasted herself all over it. Javert felt a rush of desire pound through his body, and without waiting another moment, he captured her lips in a fiery kiss, grabbing her hair, yanking it roughly, and trying to drink in the taste of the juices that lingered on her tongue. She squeaked and wrapped her arms around him, her hips moving against his and encouraging him. It did not take him long to oblige; only this time, he turned her around, adjusted her so that she was kneeling somewhat with her backside tilted up towards him, and then pushed her against the headboard and forced her against the wall, her hands placed against it. He set his hands on her hips, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave faint marks behind, as he was not bothering to spare her a bit of gentleness since he knew very well she did not want it.

When he entered her, he entered her roughly – almost violently – and she balled her hands into fists against the wall, breathless. She cried out loudly, but the volume of Javert's low, rumbling exclamation was far greater and drowned out any sound she made. Éponine was lost in a sea of sensation: the feeling of his hard manhood inside her, of his hot breath on her shoulder, of the way he was thrusting into her with every ounce of energy in his body. She moaned, and cries of pleasure did not cease to tumble forth from her mouth when he thrust inside of her again, making the old bed creak as he did so. His pace was rapid, filled with the utmost urgency, and eventually, both Éponine and Javert grew unable to think of anything but the pleasure. Never before had their sex been so furious, so filled with passion and rage, but never before had it felt so good, either. Javert was so angry with Éponine that he had almost no control over how rough he was being with her, yet she did not mind, and the delicious pain that came from his lack of gentleness only made her cry out louder and louder, until she was almost constantly shrieking and he continuously roaring.

Éponine could feel how close she was, and though she might've tried to before, she could not think to fight it off or try to make him climax first. He'd never taken her like this, and she felt utterly surrounded by him, by his touch, his hands, his body. He increased his pace almost tenfold then, using every muscle in his body to help him go as fast as he possibly could, until he was pummeling her and slamming her against the wall, and after hardly a second of being fucked in this manner, her body let go and erupted into a climax more intense than any she'd ever known before. A sound that was a half-scream, half-sob escaped her lips, and she leaned heavily against the headboard, her knees weak, her body growing limp and unable to support itself. As her inner walls trembled and spasmed around Javert's member, he too was brought to orgasm, and he held onto her hips tightly as they rode out their climaxes together, joining one another at the epitome of all pleasure and remaining in the blissful state for what seemed like forever. Éponine gasped in delight when she felt him explode inside her; she had always loved the feeling, and she'd never known why, but the idea of his seed within her body, claiming all parts of her for his own, marking her as his territory, felt incredibly erotic to her.

Once his head was no longer reeling, he withdrew himself from her, fell back onto his knees, then eased himself down into a lying position, too exhausted to consider taking her again. She was just as tired as he was, and after a moment she fell down beside him, panting as she fought to steady her labored breathing. Every part of her body ached, and the bite marks on her collarbone stung, but there was a sense of peace clouding her mind and preventing her from dwelling too terribly long on the pain. Éponine glanced over at Javert then, and frowned when her eyes took in the damage she'd done to him. There were scratches all over him – on his cheek, collarbone, chest, back – and a great deal of them were bleeding as well, leaving little red splotches on the sheets below them. She was aware that she was bleeding too, of course, but suddenly, she felt horribly guilty for hurting Javert and slid closer to him, resting her head on one of the few parts of his chest that weren't bleeding.

When she spoke, the angry, sadistic Éponine had vanished, and was replaced with a rational being once more, "I made you bleed. You look like you've been attacked by a…a wild animal." She frowned, "I'm sorry."

Javert shook his head, largely unconcerned with the matter at the present, "It is not important."

Éponine let out a sigh, "I'm sorry we fought too. It was stupid." To that he said nothing, and she frowned again, "There. I apologized."

The Inspector looked down and met her expectant gaze, and he closed his eyes, acquiescing and reluctantly giving her what he knew she wanted, "I apologize as well."

Satisfied with that, she smiled sleepily, "It was not all bad, though. You're much more…passionate when you're angry." Javert nearly scoffed, but kept quiet and instead only brought the covers over them, shielding their bodies from the winter chill. After snuggling herself into the blankets, Éponine breathed, "I am going to be sore in the morning."

"As will I," he rasped, and she snickered.

"But I do think…" she remarked, "that it was well worth it."

And as they lay there, bloodied and battered in the wake of their lovemaking, Javert thought to himself that she was quite right indeed.


	2. Birthday

"Happy birthday."

When she heard Javert's voice sound out from behind her in their little bedroom, Éponine turned to him and chuckled, then folded her arms and remarked with a raised eyebrow, "You do not sound very happy." Javert clenched his jaw and cast his eyes downward, and once more, she laughed, "It was not your fault that dinner burned."

He frowned and raised his chin, angry with himself, "I could have tried harder."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It was not…all that bad."

In response, Javert only looked at her, for they both knew her words were far from truthful. The food he'd attempted to make had been burned so badly that, when it was set in front of her, Éponine could not even identify what it would've been had it been cooked properly, and she'd eyed it with the utmost hesitance, as though the disgusting, black lump would begin to move at any second. Needless to say, neither of them had dared to take a bite of the culinary monstrosity, and as a result, they'd been forced to eat only the few bits of leftover bread they had from the night before; a wholly unsuitable dinner for her birthday, the Inspector thought with a scowl. Éponine could see that Javert appeared immensely frustrated with himself, and so she sauntered over to the table, picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses, and walked back over to him.

"Come sit with me," she told him as she strode toward the armchair near their fireplace, which glowed and crackled with the roars of a strong flame. He obliged and took a seat, and she promptly climbed on top of him, swinging her legs over the side and sighing contentedly after situating herself comfortably. Then, she took the bottle of wine, poured two glasses, handed one to him, and then took a long sip of hers. After a moment, she leaned her head against his shoulder and grinned, "You said you had a present for me." He turned his head to look at her and met her wide, shiny eyes when she inquired eagerly, "What is it?"

"You shall see. Later," he murmured, and she smirked, taking another drink of her wine and nestling herself closer to him.

They remained like that in silence for a long moment, and then, she said softly, "You may try to make me breakfast in the morning, if you want to."

"It will end in the same manner," he rasped, then exhaled sharply, "It is best that I do not."

Inside, Éponine knew that he was right, and so she did not bother trying to persuade him otherwise, lest he nearly set fire to their little flat again. They sat together in contented quiet for ten more minutes, drinking their wine and enjoying each other's company without speaking. Éponine thought to herself, then, that it did not bother her much that Javert was a man of few words, for there were times of silence like this, when she lay in his arms with her head on his chest, listening only to the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing, that she enjoyed the quiet more than she would enjoy any words exchanged between them. Though the silence was thick, it was not uncomfortable in the slightest, and neither felt obligated to fill it. They understood one another perfectly well in silence, and they did not need words to convey their thoughts, their feelings.

She sighed happily, then glanced up at him and yawned, her eyelids beginning to droop with exhaustion, "May I have my present now, please?"

He looked back down at her, thought for a moment, but eventually made a noise that she interpreted as his agreement. Without opening his mouth to reply, he picked her up bridal-style and carried her to their bed, where he gently placed her down and eased her into a sitting position. Then, he took a seat behind her and brought his hands to the back of her dress, unbuttoning it slowly and then watching as the purple fabric crumpled around her shoulders, exposing the undergarments beneath. She shivered as her skin made contact with the chilly winter air, but when he made to untie her corset and throw it aside, a blush blossomed on her cheeks, and a grin came to her lips. Once he'd rid her of the troublesome undergarments, he placed his rough, calloused hands upon her bare shoulders and began to knead them into her flesh, massaging her shoulders with as much tenderness as he could muster. She inhaled sharply and moaned as his large hands soothed her muscles, her body growing limp under his ministrations. She hadn't realized just how stiff she'd been, and she would never have imagined that Javert would be able to relax the immense tension in her body with such ease. She leaned back into his touch, her breath catching in her throat when she felt him pause to kiss the small of her back, then gradually move his lips upward to lay another kiss on her shoulder blade.

Éponine turned her head sideways and looked at him out of her the corner of her eye, "You're my present, aren't you?"

Upon hearing that she did not at all sound disappointed by the prospect, he brushed his lips across her bony back once again, "Yes."

She moved to face him then, and he entangled one of his hands in her hair slowly, bringing her mouth to his and crushing her lips against his own. It was not a rough kiss, however, and Éponine found herself surprised by how slow and gentle he was being, for she'd not thought him capable of tenderness when he was such a harsh, unfriendly person otherwise. Though perhaps a spoiled girl would have, Éponine did not mind even a bit that he had no material gift to give to her. She knew that his salary did not allow him a great deal of excess money with which he could purchase frivolous things, and most of what he made paid for the food they ate and the little flat they lived in. Yet Éponine thought at that moment, as he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer to his body, that she would rather have him – the deepest, gentlest parts of him – than some pretty, expensive trinket which would, in the end, mean little to her. After a moment, Éponine lay down on the bed and tugged him down along with her, never tearing her mouth away from his as she did so. He was heavy on top of her, crushing most of the air from her lungs, but she did not care; she only wanted him near her, as close to her as he could be. His touch was fire against her skin, and she was aching for the burn.

Javert moved his lips down to her neck and kissed the skin there slowly, enjoying the feeling of her soft, smooth skin beneath his dry lips. His hands roamed her body aimlessly for a while, until they stopped at her pert, little breasts, cupping and caressing them. He thought to himself that he'd never tire of feeling them, of touching her, and he had every intention of giving her the most pleasure he could on this night. Slowly, deliberately – as if appreciating something sacred – he gave one of her breasts a squeeze, fingering the erect nipple for a moment and listening contentedly as she whimpered quietly beneath him. She placed her hands on his back, grabbing onto his clothing and holding on tightly as she wrapped her legs around him. The Inspector could feel himself growing hard, but he refused to permit himself to remove his clothes, for he knew that if he did, he would not be able to stop himself from taking her, and that was not what he wanted, not now. He did not want this to be like every other night; this time, it was about her, about her pleasure – not his. So he kept his clothing on although every muscle in his body was screaming at him to tear it off, exercising great willpower as he did so. He guided his hand downward, then, and moved it in between her thin legs. When she felt his fingers brush her inner thigh, she gasped and trembled, holding her breath and anxiously awaiting his touch. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and she felt moisture begin to throb between her legs, in the region where her thighs met.

He thought for a moment that he could make Éponine wait, make her ache and beg for him, but, at that instant, he did not want to make her feel the pain of unfulfilled desire or torment her with pleasure. He touched two of his fingers to her clit, dipping them into her opening and then swirling them around the sensitive bud for lubrication. Her reaction was violent: she gasped loudly, squirmed underneath him, and spread her legs wider, encouraging him as best she could without saying a word, for the desire pounding through her body had nigh on rendered her speechless, and she knew not why. Javert could feel her body quivering, could see that she was aching for more, and so he thrust two of his fingers as deep inside her as they could go, burying the digits within her. A groan escaped him before he could stifle it, and he drove them into her again, hopelessly aroused by the feeling of her wetness all around him, closing in on his fingers. She held onto him tightly, gasping and moaning and bucking her hips beneath him as he continued to pleasure her with his hand, hitting all the right places effortlessly and driving her even more out of her mind. He quickened his pace to ensure she wasn't in any way not getting what she wanted, and he pressed his lips to hers again as he did so, in an attempt to stimulate her in every way he could.

Her lips were mostly unresponsive against his, however, and she did not kiss him back; instead only crying out against his mouth, her exclamations growing more and more high-pitched and frantic as she felt the pressure within her build. She clamped her legs tightly around his hand, so hard that he could not have pulled his arm away even if he'd tried. Javert removed one of his fingers from her for a second, bringing it up to brush and rub her clit, and his actions pushed her even closer to orgasm, until she was teetering on the brink, her body only seconds away from giving in to the pleasure and coming. He thrusted inside her harder, faster, but it was only when he removed one of his fingers and pushed it up hard against her sensitive bud once more that she finally climaxed, moaning into his mouth, her body writhing beneath him as violent shivers of pleasure wracked her and forced her mind to go blank.

Fascinated, Javert took in the sight of her as she came, thinking for a moment that he'd never seen her look so beautiful, so captivating. Her eyes were closed, her pink lips parted as she cried out, her hands clutching him to her body desperately. He squeezed his eyes closed as well and forced himself to look away, for he was certain that, if he did not, his self-control would vanish into thin air, and he had not yet done to her what he wanted to do. After a minute or so, her pleasure ebbed and disappeared, and her eyes fluttered open to look at him, a lazy smile pulling at her lips. She placed a hand on his head and pulled him into a kiss, but after hardly a second, he tore his mouth from hers. Confused, Éponine frowned, but she froze when she realized what he was doing. He had knelt at the end of the bed, his lips beginning to descend lower and lower down her body, until his mouth was inches from her opening, his unshaven face scratching the insides of her thighs and sending a shudder through her.

Still trying to recover from her orgasm, Éponine's hazy mind was spinning, and she was struggling to comprehend the feeling of him between her legs, struggling to determine what he could possibly be doing. She propped herself up on her elbows for a moment and looked down at Javert, her chest heaving as he brought his mouth closer and closer to her slit. Finally, he moved his mouth as close as he could to her and captured her cunt in a long, deep kiss, as though he was kissing her mouth. Éponine gasped when he swirled his tongue over her clit, which was already alert and hyper-sensitive from her orgasm hardly seconds ago. She reached down and grabbed hold of his head tightly with both hands, whimpers and squeals escaping her mouth all the while as she encouraged him to speed up. He'd never given her pleasure that seemed so mind-blowing, so immense and satisfying, and she could barely stand it. It was not as though he'd never done this to her before – because he had, many times – but it'd never succeeded in reducing her into the stuttering, moaning mess she was now. Occasionally, his tongue delved inside of her, but he focused most of the attentions of his mouth on her clit, knowing well how powerful a tool it was when pleasuring her. And he was right; the way he was running his tongue across her bud and applying gentle pressure to it nearly made her eyes roll back in her head, and she could not have stopped moaning if she'd tried.

Hardly a minute later, Éponine was already crying out in ecstasy as she hit her peak, climaxing long and hard and arching her back off of the bed, into his mouth. Javert could feel her shiver as she orgasmed, but he kept his mouth on her clit, enjoying the sensation of each tremor that pulsed through her body and relishing in the knowledge that they were because of him. She screamed his name – over and over again, as though worshiping some kind of god – and he would've grinned if his mouth had not been otherwise occupied. Though she had climaxed twice already, he was not yet finished with her, and his tongue returned to her sopping wet opening as she rode out her orgasm, moaning and whimpering and making all sorts of noises that were making it increasingly hard for him not to unbutton his trousers and take her right now. For some reason, however, he did not have much of a desire to fuck her, for it seemed to him that to pleasure her now would be satisfaction enough for the both of them.

Meanwhile, Éponine's mind was blank, her body overwhelmed with a myriad of heavenly sensations. The only things she could remember how to do were breathe and hold onto his head, and she could scarcely believe it when he did not pull away, but instead continued his gentle, masterful ministrations on her clit. Before she'd even had enough time to recover from her climax, she came again – harder this time – and her limbs began to feel totally numb, fuzzy. She was breathing hard, and she felt lightheaded, and she wondered, for a moment, if she would pass out because of the pleasure. Eventually, she could no longer scream his name and began to breathe it instead, her voice light, airy, hardly than a whisper. All the while, the Inspector delighted in the sweet, honey-like taste of her, and he thought to himself that there was perhaps nothing greater in the world than pleasuring Éponine; than tasting her all over his tongue, than hearing her scream his name as she came, than feeling her legs lock around his neck as her entire body trembled.

Éponine was lost, her thoughts scrambled, her body no longer under her control. She could barely think, could hardly move a muscle – and still, he was not stopping. His tongue swirled furiously in and out of her folds, over her clit, and he was lapping her up as though he had never tasted something so delicious. She could do nothing but lie there and moan helplessly, coming again and again until her whole world was spinning wildly and she was seeing spots. When he finally pulled away from her, Éponine had lost track of how many orgasms she'd had. Her arms and legs were limp, her cheat heaving. Her body was coated in a thin layer of sweat, her face was flushed a deep shade of red, her legs shaking like gelatin. Deciding that it appeared she'd had more than enough for one night, he ripped his mouth from her clit and moved towards her on the bed.

He frowned when he noticed how dazed and overwhelmed she seemed, "Are you all right?"

Éponine would have laughed had she been able to. For a minute, her tongue remained in knots and she could not form proper words, but once it'd passed, she was able to pant out, "I-I-I can't feel my legs. Or…o-or my arms." She paused to catch her breath, then admitted, "I don't think I can move."

Though he was still fully clothed, Javert lay down next to Éponine and pulled her close to him, watching her without a sound as she fought to steady her breathing and regain feeling in her limbs. Finally, after she could think clearly and see somewhat normally again, she looked up to him and murmured, "You can take me, you know. I know you must…want to."

"I am not concerned with my own pleasure tonight," he told her firmly, and she smiled, nestling herself into his chest with a deep sigh.

"I very much enjoyed my gift," Éponine said quietly, her voice still wobbling, and at that, Javert nearly smirked. She yawned, her eyelids beginning to close although she fought to keep them open. Then, after a long, peaceful pause, she muttered into his chest with a little grin, "And I hope…that you will be inclined to give it to me again – soon."


	3. Celibate

When Éponine came upon Javert in his study during the afternoon of the first of May, she found him entirely engrossed in his work and unwilling to pay much mind to her presence.

And when Éponine came upon Javert in his study, she decided that that simply would not do.

When she first entered the small, stuffy room, she crept in slowly, her footfalls almost inaudible on the wooden floor. So concentrated on his paperwork was he that he did not even hear her, nor did he see her out of the corner of his eye, and so she moved closer to him in an attempt to get him to notice her. Then, upon seeing that he simply would not look up, she sauntered over to the small chair in front of his desk and plopped down in it, folding her arms and watching him intently with narrowed eyes. At last, he glanced up at Éponine with faint irritation, but said nothing and only glared at her, then returned to his work without sparing her even a single word.

Though it was clear she was not wanted here at the moment, Éponine raised her eyebrows and asked, "What're you doing?"

His response was stiff and terse, "Working."

Realizing that he did not intend to stop unless she persuaded him otherwise, she got to her feet and walked over behind him, looping her arms around his neck and pressing gentle, hot kisses to his skin, in another, more desperate attempt to encourage him to abandon his work in favor of paying attention to her. Éponine didn't know what had gotten into her, really; all she knew was that she had been recalling the night of her birthday a few weeks ago, when he'd given her pleasure she still could not wrap her head around, and she'd quickly found her body aching for his touch again even though they had last made love only a few hours ago, when they'd first woken up in the morning. Javert was not swayed much by her kisses, however, and did his best to ignore her, for the paperwork before him was nearing the date when its completion was necessary and he could not afford to put it off much longer.

Still, Éponine remained intent on drawing his focus away from his work, and, as her hands roamed about his body, she purred in his ear, "Must you finish that _right now_?"

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes and fighting off the combined arousal and irritation he felt at her intrusion, "Yes."

"It cannot wait?" she nearly whimpered, her voice low, pleading.

Javert growled, abruptly angry at her for being such an effective temptation when he knew well he needed to remain clear-headed. Before he could think over his words, he spat, "We cannot make love whenever you feel like it. I swear you are not able to go without it for even half a day."

Offended, she drew away from him, then placed her hands on her hips and scowled, "That's not true." He said nothing to that, and her cheeks flushed with furious color, "It is not as though you can go without it either! Just the other day I was making dinner, and you quite rudely interrupted me and pulled me into the bedroom." He glared at her, but did not attempt to refute her statement, for he knew what she'd said was true. She folded her arms and ground her teeth together, raising her chin at him, "I-I am sure I could do without it for much longer than you."

"That is ridiculous," he muttered as he got to his feet and walked over to one of his bookshelves, rifling through it for a moment before turning around to face her, "I did not fall prey to carnal desires for years on end. I am certain I could abstain far longer."

She narrowed her eyes again, her anger dying and giving way to a hint of playfulness, "Is that a challenge?"

Javert paused, seeming to realize the implications of what such a challenge would mean, but ultimately said only, "Only if you choose to interpret it as such."

With somewhat of a naughty glint in her eyes, she grinned, "Then it shall be." She moved closer to him until their bodies were pressed tightly up against one another, and she brought her face close to his, "I may not touch you, and you may not touch me. We cannot lie with one another – unless, of course, one of us surrenders, and admits that they can no longer stand it_._" She straightened her back and looked him daringly in the eyes, then asserted, "And it will not be _me_."

Though he was trying hard to ignore the intoxicating proximity of her body to his and focus instead on what she was saying, he found that he could not keep himself from tugging her closer to him and hissing under his breath, "And when does this celibacy begin?"

Her cheeks beginning to flush with even more color because of this sudden, unforeseen closeness to him, she hesitated for a moment, then murmured somewhat unconvincingly, "Right now."

Without warning, Javert entangled one of his hands in her hair and captured her lips with his all at once, placing his hands on her hips and pressing her even harder against his body, so much so that she could feel every twinge of every muscle within him as he moved. She squeaked into his mouth, not suspecting such a ferocious reaction from Javert when he'd seemed so determined to finish his work, but she melted into his kiss after hardly a second, and gave a sound of disappointment when he tore his mouth from hers.

His voice was lower and raspier when he spoke again, "You are certain that it begins now?"

He kissed her once more – deeper and more urgently this time – and her knees began to feel weak, her arousal from before returning in full force and causing her breathing to speed up substantially. Once he released her lips again, Éponine shook her head and panted, "Perhaps it can begin…in a few minutes." Entirely dissatisfied with that answer, he moved his lips to her neck, tightening his hold on her and snaking his hand up between her legs, past her undergarments and to the area where her thighs met. Though she'd resolved to remain strong, his actions forced her to finally gasp out, "Or…i-in half an hour." When she felt him touch two of his fingers to her clit, she moaned and at last relented, "O-or in an hour… or two."

Those were the last words that they said to one another that afternoon, and before Éponine knew it, he'd shoved his paperwork aside, picked her up, seated her on his desk, and laid furious, unrelenting siege to her lips once more.

* * *

After that day, there was to be no more making love; Éponine made that abundantly clear.

There were rules, of course, and though Javert thought the whole thing utterly ridiculous, he did not see the sense in fighting with her when she was so hell-bent on abstaining from sex and proving to him that he could not go without it. They were allowed to kiss one another, but the moment that a kiss grew too heated and hands began wandering to places they did not belong, Éponine decreed that they must stop and end things before they went too far. She'd also decided that they were forbidden to touch one another on their privy parts in order to entice the other into making love, and also could not have their bodies exceptionally close together for extended periods of time. When she told Javert this, he merely rolled his eyes and told her that she was putting far too much thought into the whole thing. Still, she seemed to regard it as highly important, and so he only occasionally grumbled under his breath about the self-imposed abstinence she'd subjected both of them to.

As two days passed, however, his frustration with the situation grew exponentially, to heights that he had not thought it would reach. He did not realize how often they'd made love until he was forced to go without it, and he started to find it very difficult to sleep beside her at night and not be able to lay a hand on her. For one of the first times in his life, he'd had an erotic dream, in which Éponine's hands and body were all over him, everywhere, touching and caressing his skin, letting him do as he pleased with her. When he'd awoken he'd been faced with a particularly troublesome hardness in between his legs that he had dealt with with the utmost irritation. Éponine had said nothing about whether or not they were permitted to touch themselves, but even after he'd relieved himself of his erection, he still did not feel even slightly satisfied. Touching himself gave him nowhere near the amount of pleasure he got when he touching her, and it infuriated him more than he would ever dare to admit.

But surely, he convinced himself, he could last longer than a mere two days. Only two days? It was ridiculous – pathetic, even, that he should become so desperate after such a short amount of time. He was a strong, sensible, level-headed man, and so, he decided, a week or so without making love would not kill him.

On the morning of the third day, though, as he and Éponine were milling about the kitchen during breakfast, his resolve faltered yet again.

It happened when he was walking away from the table, having finished his food, and she was walking towards it to fetch the plates and clean them. Not looking where she was going as she was, her body collided with his in the middle of the room, slamming up against him hard and bringing them closer than they'd dared in days. All at once, both Éponine and Javert froze. Her eyes widened as she felt some unseen force urging her closer to him, and for a second, she obliged, leaning into Javert and bringing her lips close to his, unwilling to tear herself from him. However, when she realized what she was doing, she pulled away and began to walk in the other direction, only to have Javert catch her by the arm and yank her back towards him. His body was on fire, his eyes wild and hungry, and he was observing her as though he wanted nothing more than to devour her entirely.

"I cannot stand this," he bit out, "You cannot do this to me any longer. You are torturing me, and I'll have no more of it!"

Éponine seemed almost afraid for a moment, but she quickly relaxed and smirked triumphantly, "Of course you may have me. But… you must do one thing first."

Javert knew exactly what she wanted, but demanded nonetheless, "What?"

"Admit it," she folded her arms and moved closer to him, elated to have him just where she wanted him, "Admit that you cannot _stand_ not touching me, not making love to me every night –_and_ every morning, and afternoon." She moved closer still to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, lowering her voice into a seductive whisper, "You can't go without touching my breasts, my lips…without hearing me scream your name. You need it. You need me. _Admit it_."

Javert was indeed on the verge of doing so, but when he realized how easily she was tempting him – how easily he was being influenced by the pleasures of the flesh like every other fool he'd ever met – he sneered, "I will not be so easily swayed by such petty things."

Though Éponine was somewhat disappointed that he'd not given in, she did not let it show and instead only folded her arms again with a determined look set into her features, "All right, then."

Without another word, she turned and was gone from the room, and he swore under his breath as he watched her go, thinking crossly to himself that making love to Éponine was not nearly as petty a thing as he'd been so quick to deem it.

* * *

Though she made no mention of it to Javert, their newfound celibacy was not much easier for Éponine, in truth.

She quickly learned how hard it was to keep herself from him, and when she realized just how much she was aching for him, she felt like a whore, like a loose woman who had no morals and constantly sought the touch of a man. She was not overly concerned about the sin of fornication before marriage, however, and was instead more concerned with idea that going without making love for only a few days had made her so desperate, so hungry to be touched. She had never felt this way for anyone before, had never experienced such a potent, unyielding attraction to another person, and she almost hated the idea that Javert had such power over her. She did not, however, make her suffering known to him, and hid it as best she could whenever they were around one another. After a week passed, she resorted to touching herself while he was at work, so he did not know how she was yearning for him and think her weak. No matter how much she did, how frantically she thrusted her fingers in and out of her sex and stroked herself, she got only cold, empty satisfaction that left her feeling no better than she'd felt before.

Somehow, they managed to keep away from each other for a week and a half, yet all the while, they pined almost painfully for one another, and after eleven days without making love, something within Éponine snapped.

She could stand it no longer.

On the morning of that eleventh day, she'd awoken after another tortuous dream of Javert, and found that she was hopelessly aroused and wet, with a persistent, gentle throbbing in her nether regions that would simply not go away though she willed it to. She suffered through breakfast with Javert in silence, her cheeks a deep shade of red as she fought off the growing desire between her legs that simply would not cease. The Inspector noted her apparent distress, though he was not quite certain of the cause and made no mention of it as they ate. When they finished their meal and began to clear the table, however, Éponine found that she could not stop herself from leaving the plates right where they were and storming up behind him, to where he stood at the counter. Javert turned around upon sensing her behind him, and the instant he did, she nearly jumped on him, pushing him up against a nearby wall with all her might and crashing her lips down upon his. Stunned, he tensed up for a moment, but eventually moaned into her mouth and wrapped his arms around her, and when he did, Éponine realized that_ she _– she, and not him – had been the one to give in, to admit that they could not go without making love any longer. The thought angered her beyond belief.

Javert ripped her mouth from hers, then, and remarked with a hint of surprise in his voice, "You have given in."

Infuriated by the idea, she shook her head violently, then moved her hand down so that it was gripping the hardness that'd begun to form between his legs. At that, he grunted, and she scowled, "No. _You_ are going to give in."

She began to stroke and caress him there, encouraging his arousal to grow, and though it was difficult for him to do so, he managed to hiss under his breath, "This… is not fair." Éponine looked up at him then, a defiant gleam in her eye, and he growled, "This is against your rules."

Knowing full well just how much what she was doing was against the rules but choosing to disregard the fact, Éponine brought her mouth close to his ear and breathed, "Just give in. _Give in_."

"No," he scowled and barred his teeth, though the feeling of her hands gently brushing against his groin was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Without a word, she unbuttoned his trousers hastily and dipped her hand inside of them, taking hold of his hardening cock once more and eliciting a low, rumbling moan from him. Desperate to make him admit defeat, she whispered in his ear once more, "Say you give in, a-and you can have me. You can have…_this_."

Slowly, with her eyes locked intensely on his, she fell slowly onto her knees before him, her soft hands continuing to run up and down his shaft, and upon seeing what she was doing, he stopped breathing for a long moment. Then, he lowered his voice and warned her, "Éponine-"

She took his tip into her mouth all of a sudden, forcing all the breath from his body and ripping a growl from his throat, but she pulled away just as quickly and demanded softly, "Say you give in. Say it… and I'll keep going."

Javert was sweating, struggling to control himself and not bend to her will, and after a moment, he growled again, "_Dammit, _Éponine…"

"You give in… don't you?" she said, only seconds before she wrapped her lips around him once more – with more fervor this time – further weakening his resolve and rendering his body utterly desperate, frantic for the feeling of her hot, wet mouth on him. When she pulled away again, he thrusted his hips forward almost involuntarily, but she refused to open her lips once more and instead kept her gaze on his, her wide, brown eyes beckoning him to let go, to admit that he could no longer take it. Doing this to him was unfair, she knew, but at that moment, she was beyond caring, and far, far beyond obeying her own ill thought out rules.

Though he did not want to – and though doing so made him feel weak, like an utter fool – Javert gave in at that moment, his strength and tenacity crumbling around him into bits with one single word, "_Yes_."

As soon as she heard his affirmation, she grabbed hold of his length once more and took him as far into her mouth as she could, fire pounding through her veins and burning in her eyes. Knowing just how to touch him, she swirled her tongue around his hardness languidly, bobbing her head up and down slowly, unhurriedly. Javert, while very much still frustrated with himself for not being able to refuse her, was forced to ponder the fact that surrender – though it was a dreadful, humiliating thing – had never felt so sweet, so good. His head fell back against the wall, and he moaned in ecstasy, his knees beginning to grow weak beneath him as he placed his hands on her head and grabbed her hair in his fists. She began to move her mouth around him quicker and let out a soft moan herself, running her tongue all the way around him, with a sort of slow, gentle rhythm that loosed an endless stream of grunts and other pleasured noises from Javert's throat, until he could feel that he was only seconds away from coming. Yet even after not feeling these magnificent feelings for more than a week, he did not want to finish inside of her mouth, to end their dry spell so unceremoniously. He did not want only her mouth; he wanted her, every part of her, and after a moment, he managed to steady his voice enough to speak.

"Stop," he croaked, and she obeyed hesitantly, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised, for she could not imagine why on earth he would want to be denied pleasure once more. Javert took a deep breath, "I do not want…this."

She looked even more bewildered, "Then…what do you want?"

His answer was simple, "You."

With a nod, she licked her lips and got to her feet, then pulled him forward gently by the front of his shirt until she'd reached the table. Then, without caring a bit if they broke, she pushed most of the breakfast dishes aside, watching them in silence as they fell and shattered into pieces on the floor. She did not pay much mind to the mess, however, and once there was room enough for her on the table, she laid her body down on it and yanked him down along with her. With hands almost shaking because of the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he pushed his way past her skirts and undergarments until he'd reached her bare womanhood, and for a second he nearly salivated at the sight, but did not waste much time merely looking at her. After fingering her alert clit briefly, he plunged a finger inside her opening and found that she was already sopping wet, her core hot, throbbing, ready for him. Without waiting another second, he positioned himself at her opening and entered her roughly, taking hold of her legs and draping them over his shoulders so as to bring them closer together. He thrusted hard and deep into her, and nearly roared with pleasure as he felt her soft, moist folds closing in tightly around his member. Though it'd only been little more than a week, it'd felt like an eternity to Javert without making love, and he'd missed this feeling immensely, missed hearing her cry out and moan and scream his name as he fucked her.

And what better way to take her again, he mused with something akin to a smirk, than to take her on the kitchen table.

"_Oh God_," she whimpered, her hands falling down to grip the sides of the table as he pounded in and out of her. The table was creaking loudly, the old, weak legs of the thing crying out in protest as they were shoved back and forth with every furious thrust of Javert's. He placed his hands on Éponine's hips and grabbed onto them tightly, thrusting with abandon, as if there was not a single thing in the world that could make him consider stopping. He quickly felt himself teetering on the brink of orgasm, but stopped himself from letting go so that Éponine would be able to get the release she sought as well and not be left disappointed. Meanwhile, Éponine was in heaven, her senses and mind overwhelmed by Javert, by the feeling of him inside her, and she cursed herself for ever thinking to keep herself from him when being taken by him was so pleasurable, so unbearably divine. When he began to drive into her with more force, she moaned, realizing how close she was to finishing and anxiously awaiting the bliss she'd not felt in what seemed like ages.

"Éponine…" he moaned, and upon hearing her name, she nearly went rigid in surprise. He scarcely ever said anything whilst making love, and she could only recall a handful of times he'd ever said her name. However, as his deep, hoarse voice met her ears, she found herself finally shoved over the edge, and before she even had time to blink, she felt her body lose control and climax, pleasure raging like an inferno between her thighs and shooting out into all parts of her body; her stomach, her breasts, her arms and legs. She let out an airy half-shriek as she came, and, as it always did, her orgasm brought on Javert's as well. A choked sort of sound burst forth from his mouth when he climaxed, and he felt the world begin to spin as his hot seed gushed into her. As his orgasm took hold of him, Javert realized he could hardly remember a time when he'd come so hard and so long, and he struggled to stay upright and regulate his labored breathing. Once his hazy vision had cleared, he pulled out of her and managed to stumble sideways into one of the chairs, leaning heavily on the table and blinking multiple times. After she'd recovered as well, she sat up on the table, smoothed down her skirts, and then made her way gently onto his lap again, clasping her arms around the back of his neck and straddling him. Her body was still aching and burning for his touch; she was far from satisfied with only one round of lovemaking, and the fact was quite obvious to Javert.

Still breathing hard, she pressed her lips against his, and it took him a moment to respond to her kiss. After only a minute, however, he pulled away and rasped, "Promise me…that we will never attempt celibacy again."

Éponine shook her head frantically and brought their mouths together once more, "_Never_."

Javert tore his lips from hers again, only this time he said nothing, and instead only picked her up and carried her into their bedroom.


	4. Wet

**Note: **I'm not certain just how regularly I'll be updating this now, since I've kind of run out of inspiration, so if anyone has a suggestion/prompt/thing you want to see here, I'd love to hear it!

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When Javert awoke on the twelfth of August, during the hottest summer Paris had seen in decades, he awoke to the scent of food wafting into his nostrils from the kitchen, and then, became aware of the fact that Éponine was not lying on the other side of the bed. Thinking it strange that she should be up earlier than him – for he was usually the one who awoke first – he furrowed his brow, but, for some reason, could not summon the strength to get up. So, unwilling to begin his day just yet, he remained in bed for another few minutes, indulging in a pleasure he did not often give himself: relaxation. Seldom did he ever relax or let his mind wander, and as he did, in that moment, he could barely remember a time when his mind had been so completely at ease, so free from stress or worry. The sound of soft footsteps down the hallway met his ears, then, and he opened his eyes and propped himself up on the pillows just in time to see Éponine step into the room. When she did, Javert found himself confronted with a sight he was entirely unprepared for, and his jaw became unhinged upon seeing her.

She was stood in the doorway with a mischievous grin on her face, her dark hair hanging in loose waves at her shoulders, newly washed and brushed. In her hands she carried a large silver tray of piping hot food for the two of them: some kind of thin soup, and a few crispy pastries. Her forehead was covered with a shiny layer of sweat because of the hot summer heat and the warmth of being in the kitchen, and her brown eyes were narrowed with desire, blackened with lust.

And she was stark naked, without a single scrap of clothing covering her body – and she did not seem even a bit ashamed of it.

For a while he only stared at Éponine, and found after a moment that he was nearly salivating at the delicious sight of nude form: her perky little breasts, her thin waist, the gentle curve of her hips and the shapeliness of her legs. His better judgment snapped in somewhat then, and he managed to sputter, "What in God's name are you-"

She interrupted him gently, "I thought we might have breakfast in bed today." His shocked eyes fell once more to look at her exposed bosom, and she smirked, "This heat is god-awful. There're times when I simply don't feeling like wearing any clothes."

"You are…that is…" he shook his head, struggling to speak properly and comprehend the fact that Éponine had thought it perfectly suitable to cook breakfast and bring it to him whilst wearing nothing all the while. Finally, he settled on rasping, "Someone could have seen you through the windows."

Éponine shook her head and grinned, sauntering over to the bed with a little hop in her step, "I closed all the curtains. I have got some shame, mind you." She paused, then laughed a little at herself, "But not much." After setting the tray of food down on the bedside table and sliding underneath the covers next to him, she noticed just how desirous his gaze was, how intently he was staring at the gentle mounds of her breasts, and she raised an eyebrow, "I see your mouth watering, and I don't think it's because of the food."

Finally, he snapped out of his bewildered state and clenched his jaw, "You are unbelievable."

"Perhaps," she conceded, then reached over and carefully set the tray of food at the end of the bed, within reach of them both but not at great risk of being knocked over and having its contents spilled. They ate the soup with haste, speaking little and endeavoring not to get any on the bed sheets as they did, though after only a few minutes, Éponine failed miserably at the task, and, after trying to move closer to him while eating, ended up spilling a great deal of it on the sheets and her bare legs.

Javert observed the large, reddish stain on the sheet with a scowl, "I cannot understand why you thought this would be a good idea."

"Because…" she drawled, setting down her soup and making her way on top of him, her legs wrapped tightly around him and her pelvis grinding lightly against his. She crashed her lips against his mouth without warning and moaned into the kiss, then pulled away with a grin, "We can't do this while eating breakfast at a table." Éponine thought for a moment, moved her lips to his neck, and then whispered softly, her words floating across his skin and prickling it with goosebumps, "I would like it better if you were not wearing this nightshirt."

Very quickly, as he felt the heat of her sex so close to his through the fabric of his nightclothes, Javert felt hardness begin to swell between his legs, yet for some reason the logical side of his brain failed to function for a second, and, without thinking, he blurted out, "The food… will get cold."

At that, Éponine furrowed her brow in disbelief, but moved herself off of him nevertheless and scoffed, "Very well. We shall finish eating first." She glared pointedly at him, "And _then_ we will have dessert."

With a deep sigh, Javert closed his eyes, cursing himself for his utter stupidity and wondering what on earth had driven him to say such a thing, to refuse to allow her to remove his clothing when, in reality, he would like nothing more than for her to do so, to strip him down and fuck him senseless. He breathed out through his nose, then picked up what remained of his soup and ate it in silence, while Éponine reached toward the end of the bed and snatched one of the pastries, taking a bite and then eyeing the jelly inside with a raised eyebrow. A contemplative smirk that Javert failed to see tugged at her lips, and after a moment, she dipped her finger inside of the pastry and coated it in the jelly, then swirled the thick, sticky substance around in the valley between her breasts. Éponine continued on like that for a while, trailing a line of jelly down her stomach and stopping just above the little patch of hair between her legs. Then, she moved her hand and covered her nipple in it as well, and was in the process of doing the same to the other when Javert finally looked over at her and noticed what she was doing. He remained in stunned silence for a moment, meeting her eyes with a furrowed brow and then running his gaze over her body, drinking in the sight of the red jelly spread in between her breasts, down her stomach, across her erect, pink nipples. Intense, almost suffocating desire rushed through him at the sight, but at first he could not think of what to say and instead only looked at her mutely for a few seconds.

As she watched him drink in the sight of her, Éponine widened her eyes, as though feigning innocence as to what she'd just done, "I believe…that I've made a mess."

That was all Javert needed to hear, and he nearly threw his bowl off of the bed as he climbed on top of her, lowering his head to her chest with haste and sweeping his tongue over the jelly in between her breasts first, savoring the sweetness of not only the jelly but also the soft, tender flesh of her bosom. As she felt him begin to lick the stickiness from her skin, she moaned, and nearly laughed aloud at how ridiculously erotic the whole thing was. He let loose out a low, guttural groan from the back of his throat, and felt his member swelling and pulsing even harder with lust for her. Éponine's breath caught in her throat when she felt him begin to guide his lips downward and brush them over her belly button, and when he reached the area just below her stomach, she felt arousal bloom like a carnal flower between her legs, her core aching and yearning for his touch. However, he pulled his mouth away from her stomach after he'd licked the jelly from her skin there, and she whimpered in disapproval, but her disappointment was short-lived. His mouth still watering almost visibly, he gazed upon her nipples, peaked with desire and sticky with jelly, and then dove upon one of them fiercely, his mind deserting him and leaving him but a shell of a man concerned only with seeking pleasure. He took her nipple into his mouth slowly, gradually, and when he began to nibble and suckle on it gently, Éponine threw her head back and moaned without restraint. Javert knew just how much doing this drove her mad, and, with something akin to a smirk, he decided that he would take advantage of it as long as he could, for he could not honestly say there was a greater sound in the world than the sound of Éponine's moan, than the sound of her gasps and other cries of pleasure.

Though he'd already removed all of the jelly from her breast, he continued to suck on it, unwilling to tear himself away, and, beneath him, she squealed and moaned all the while, placing a hand on his head and burying her fingers in his hair. After a minute, Éponine became certain she could not withstand another second of his teasing, and she moaned, grabbing onto his head roughly and forcing him to look up at her.

"Take me," she managed breathlessly, "Fuck me. _Now_."

As he looked down at her flushed cheeks, her wild eyes, her parted lips, Javert thought for a moment that he could make her beg for him, make her ache for his touch, yet something stopped him from doing so. He realized all of a sudden just how often they fought for domination in bed, how their sex was almost always about who was in control, and he thought, then, that he did not want this time to be about power, about domination and submission. He wanted only pleasure – for him, for her, for both of them, and it was with this in mind that he nodded, unbuttoning and discarding his sweaty nightshirt with all haste. Once they were mutual in their nudity, he returned his lips to her breast once more, but did not spend much more time suckling on it and instead moved his hands to her legs, gripping them firmly and encouraging them apart. Taking the hint, she spread them eagerly, without a second thought, and then placed her soft hands on his behind, frantically urging him forward and gasping in delight when she felt his long, erect member brush the inside of her thigh. She could almost feel the wetness leaking out of her, and her body was aflame with lust, and she was certain that she could not withstand another second without him inside her. Exercising an immense amount of willpower as he did so, he circled the tip of his length around her sex, but refused to enter her at first, and she writhed underneath him as though in actual pain because of his teasing. When she felt his hardness brush against her clit, she bit down hard on her lower lip and tried not to scream in frustration.

"Do it," the words burst forth from her mouth again before she could stop them, and when he still did not enter her, she moaned hoarsely and bucked her hips, "_Do it._"

Javert could take it no longer; the sound of her voice, begging him to take her; the feeling of her juices on his tip, arousing him even further; the pulsing in his manhood, growing more incessant as he felt her try to bring him into her opening again. Finally, without waiting another moment, he plunged as far into her waiting womanhood as he could manage, burying himself within her as deeply as he was able to make himself go and nearly roaring as he felt her tightness envelop him. After calming himself for a moment, he thrust into her again – harder this time – and then increased his pace substantially after that, driving himself into her and grunting and groaning all the while. They reached their climaxes with haste, yet Javert did not stop and instead only continued to fuck her, and it was in that manner that they carried on for nearly half an hour. They switched positions often, with Éponine on her hands and knees once, and then with her on top of him another, riding him until they both came once more.

Their lovemaking did not last forever, of course, and after a while, they both found themselves too tired to carry on. Once Éponine had finished for the last time, she collapsed into his arms, breathing heavily, her body trembling fiercely from the pleasure. Because of the sweltering August heat, both Éponine and Javert's bodies were absolutely soaked with sweat, and after her head cleared, she remembered the bits of the jelly that still lingered on her chest and stomach. The fluids of their lovemaking put them in an even dirtier, more wretched state, and Éponine decided with haste that that simply would not do. With a sigh, she sat up on the bed and looked down at Javert, who seemed quite tired and ready to fall asleep even though he'd barely just awoken.

She tilted her head to one side and eyed him playfully, "You know what we ought to do?"

Javert took a deep breath, his breathing still somewhat labored, "What?"

"Take a bath. Together." He narrowed his eyes skeptically, and she grinned, "We're both dirty. I don't see why not. Come on." She extended a hand to him, "I'll draw one for us."

Without a word, he rose to stand beside the bed, while Éponine, still completely naked, sauntered off into the next room to prepare a bath for them. She returned after a moment with a bucket full of cool water and poured it into the tub off in the corner, then repeated the process until it was filled to her liking. She motioned for Javert to step into it first, and he obliged, sinking into the chilly water with a deep breath. Then, although the bathtub was not made for two, she climbed in as well and nestled her body up against his, so that her back was pressed against his chest and her rear was settled in between his legs. He tensed somewhat when he felt her backside brush lightly against his groin, but fought off the rush of desire he felt and instead only watched Éponine as she ducked her head under the water, coming up for air moments later. Though she could feel his hardness beginning to grow beneath her, she chose to disregard the fact and only reached over the side of the tub, taking hold of a bar of soap and handing it to him.

When she spoke, her voice was gentle, light, "Here. Help me wash my hair."

Javert took a deep breath and managed to calm himself down long enough to take the soap from her and lather his hands with it. Then, he brought his soapy fingers to her hair and entangled them in her damp locks, spreading the suds over her head and brushing his fingers against her scalp and neck gently. A shiver shot up her back, and as she felt him caress her hair with the utmost tenderness, she felt yet another rush of blood between her legs. She squirmed against his body and shuddered again, but made no sound and let him finish running his fingers through her hair. He bade her to rinse out the soap, and she did so, then moved back up to Javert and leaned against him with a sigh. Javert was still immensely aroused by the proximity of their bodies, however, and after a moment Éponine felt him place his lips upon her shoulder blade, dragging his mouth languidly across the expanse of her back and sucking on every inch of her flesh. She gasped, but then smiled mischievously and moved so that she was facing him, her hands placed on his wet chest, her soaked hair dripping down the sides of her face.

"Not yet," she chided him, "I haven't washed you."

She picked up the soap he'd let slip into the bathwater, coated her hands in it, and then brought them to the part of his chest that was above the water. She ran them across the thin hair there, then slid them around the back of his neck and onto his shoulders, not making much of an effort to clean him, in truth. After a minute, she tangled her soapy fingers in his hair, yanked his head forward, and crushed his lips against hers briefly. When he tried to deepen the kiss, though, she only pulled away and narrowed her eyes, licking her lips hungrily.

"I missed a spot," she breathed as she placed her lips on his neck, gliding her hot mouth down to his collarbone, then to his chest, and finally to his abdomen, where she stopped for a moment and looked up at him with wide eyes, her head half-submerged in the water. Javert gulped and opened his mouth to say something to her, but before he could, her head disappeared underneath the water, and all he could see of Éponine was a halo of dark hair floating underwater, obscuring her face from view. Within seconds, he felt her lips slide over his tip and kiss it gently, and he moaned aloud, nearly reaching out and grabbing her head but refraining from doing so lest he deprive her of oxygen. Then, she took more of him into her mouth, running her tongue slowly around his hardness and making his body burn fiercely with pleasure. However, she pulled away after only a minute, unable to hold her breath for any longer, and resurfaced, her chest heaving as she fought for air.

For a moment Javert only looked at her, and found he was entirely fascinated by the way small droplets of water clung to her cheeks and dribbled off her chin, by the way her wet hair flew about in all directions around her face. After catching her breath for the most part, however, her head vanished once more, and this time as she bobbed her head up and down, she ran her water-wrinkled hands up and down his length as well. She could hear his moans and grunts of pleasure, but, underneath the water as she was, they sounded far off, muffled, and, after her lungs were burning for air again, she reappeared once more, this time far too breathless to consider going underwater again. Though he was nigh on immobilized by the lust pounding through his veins, Javert could tell that Éponine wouldn't be able to venture underneath the water anymore, and so he pulled her into him and began to course his hands over her deliciously slick body, sliding them over her wet skin and then reached down to play with one of her nipples, which was already hardened with desire. She tipped her head back and gasped, her soaked tresses cascading down her back as she did so.

Éponine recaptured his lips only a few moments later, and their kiss became so sloppy and wild that it made them both appear to be mere animals, beasts, their minds empty and only aware of pleasure. Their tongues danced fiercely with one another, so quickly that Javert's head began to spin and his loins began to ache even more. Her pelvis was brushing up hard against his erection, and knowing that she was so close was torment for Javert. Éponine could sense his need growing, and so, since the throbbing between her legs was growing equally as unbearable, she slid herself closer to him, placed both her hands on his chest, and positioned herself over his manhood. Then, ever so slowly, she eased herself down onto it, and both of them cried out loudly as pleasure surged through them. She didn't move for a moment, but when Javert placed his hands on her hips and urged her to continue, she obliged, riding him gently, with caution, so as to not tip their little bathtub over. They both grew dissatisfied quickly with such a slow pace, however, and so she sped up, clutching the sides of the tub and moaning freely when he reached up and cupped her breasts with shaking fingers. His hands roamed her naked body aimlessly after that, grabbing and groping and clutching at her skin randomly. He adored the feeling of her wet body all over him, beneath his fingers, and he wondered briefly why they'd not made love in the bath before.

Éponine's mind was blank, and the cries of pleasure that split forth from her lips every other few seconds drove Javert closer to his climax with haste. The lack of control that came from the feeling of her riding him was heavenly, and he leaned his head back against the side of the bath and stared, transfixed, as she bobbed up and down on top of him with a rapid yet surprisingly steady rhythm. He glanced down between her legs, and moaned aloud as watched his length disappear inside Éponine, swelling and pulsing as she took it into her frantically. The sight was finally enough to send Javert crashing over the edge, and he squeezed his eyes closed as he roared out his climax beneath her. At almost the same instant, she came as well – hard – and nearly fell backwards, her limbs weakened substantially and unable to support her. Every muscle in her body tensed, and the only thing that kept her from toppling over altogether was Javert's tight hold on her hips, which loosened slightly as he met his climax. Her inner walls trembled and clenched around his member tightly as she finished as well, and the divine feeling prompted him to release his hold on her waist, which had been the only thing holding her upright. Not expecting to be let go so soon, Éponine found herself falling backwards without warning and inadvertently knocking the tub sideways, spilling the cool bathwater all over the floor and forcing their bodies to come tumbling of the thing. They landed awkwardly on the ground, their chests heaving as they struggled to recover from their climaxes and realize what had just happened.

They only lay there in silence for a few minutes, stunned and soaking wet, with Éponine on her stomach and Javert on his back, and after she'd managed to steady her breathing enough to speak, she exclaimed with a half-laugh, "The floor!" She chuckled again, and crept closer to where Javert lay, eyeing the disastrous scene around him as though he was struggling to comprehend what they'd just done. As soon as she was close to Javert, she fell on the ground beside him, panting and laughing simultaneously, "Look at the floor!"

"That was…" he took a deep breath and was able to say only, "I do not believe you."

"It wasn't my fault!" she asserted, inching her way toward him and eventually collapsing onto his chest, her body and mind positively exhausted by their escapade. Éponine glanced sideways at him, then, and grinned from ear to ear, "I'm sorry about the floor."

He shook his head and told her somewhat unconvincingly, "We ought to clean up."

"Maybe," she shrugged, "But we don't have to do it now."

Javert thought for a moment, considered his options, but ultimately relented with a sigh, "No. We do not."

They said no more as they lay there that morning, a wet mess of tangled limbs on the ground, and though they knew perhaps they should do something about the sizable mess they'd made, neither Éponine nor Javert could bring themselves to care enough to tear themselves away from the other's embrace.


	5. Earthquakes

**Note: **My multi-chapter fic that I'm writing is a bit slow in coming, but it'll be published eventually, I promise. In the meantime, I figured I'd update this for the first time in forever, with this chapter I've had sitting around unfinished for like a month. This could take place in a world a few years after the end of Omnia Sol if you'd like to imagine it that way, but there's no set time and place for this, really (and also Javert still has his job and both legs).

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"You're home!"

Javert heard Éponine's joyous cry almost the instant he stepped inside their little home, and after a moment, he saw her come hurrying out from around a nearby corner, clad in only her undergarments, which stretched forward slightly to reveal the gentle curve of her belly.

She'd been with child for little more than five months, and her stomach, small as she was, was not very prominent beneath her clothing, but it stood out quite obviously to him on her slight frame, and he found his eyes drawn to it the moment she appeared before him. She'd learned of her pregnancy more than three months ago after being sick to her stomach for weeks on end, and at first, she'd been unable to sleep for thinking of it, as she'd made it abundantly clear to Javert that she'd never wanted children, and did not desire to be a mother when she was, surely, far from suited to be one. She'd been angry, terrified, bewildered as to how she had conceived a child at all when she had always been so skinny and frail. As the weeks had passed she'd withdrawn further and further into herself, speaking and smiling less, and he'd only been able to watch, not knowing how to bring her out of her state of depression and cursing himself for giving her a child she so obviously did not want, and had not been ready for. It had only been when she'd first felt the baby stir that she'd begun to warm to the idea, thinking it very odd to have a person growing inside her, but taking comfort in the fact that it was a part of her and a part of Javert. There were times she was still fearful of how a child with she and Javert as parents would turn out, but she'd become much happier in recent days, and it comforted him to see that she was no longer so miserable and despondent.

As for Javert, the idea of having a child still felt completely alien to him. He had never wanted children either, and most times, he found them to be nothing but trouble; trouble that he could well do without in his life. Even as he looked upon her now, the idea confounded and unsettled him, and so he often resorted to telling himself that he'd understand it when the time came, and the child arrived. There was a part of him that feared he would not, however, but he did not mention it to Éponine, and when she approached him, he nodded mutely in greeting to her.

"You're late. I ate supper without you," she told him with a frown, and he exhaled sharply as he removed his coat and hung it on a coatrack nearby.

"There was an armed robbery on the rue du Bac. I had to deal with the culprits," he explained. She shook her head and moved closer to him, so close that their bodies were pressed up hard against one another.

"But you're home now," she breathed, and Javert narrowed his eyes when he heard how raspy with desire her voice had become. Without saying another word, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips down hard upon his, placing a hand behind his head and crushing their mouths together forcefully. Taken aback by her sudden onslaught of passion, he tensed, and when she realized that he was not responding to her kiss, she pulled away, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips before she could stifle it, "I missed you."

Again, she seized his lips, but this time, he was the one to pull away, and when he did, he frowned, "What are you doing?"

When she spoke again, her voice was high, breathy, "I want you. I…" she closed her eyes, tugging him closer to her, aware only of her desire for the man standing before her, "I need you."

Yet again, she leaned in towards his mouth, but he backed away slightly and shook his head, "The midwife told us we must abstain."

She frowned, then shook her head, determined to get what she wanted and far too stubborn to back down, "Yes, I know, I know that but-"

"She warned that it may harm the child."

"But I spoke to an old medicine woman in town. She said that's only a myth."

"You do not know that," he told her matter-of-factly, "And I do not think it is wise to chance it."

He began to move to the side and walk past her, but she moved in his way, "I can't stand it. I-I don't know what it is, but I've been thinking of you all day, while you were at work, and I've wanted you so much, and I…"

She drifted off, letting out a breath and lowering her eyes, her cheeks flushing even darker crimson in the dimly lit room. Her sudden moods and cravings were not at all unknown to Javert; all throughout her pregnancy so far, she'd been prone to ever-changing moods and whims. At times she'd be furious at him for no reason, while others she'd be nearly in tears over nothing, and then, occasionally, she'd be unreasonably happy and giggling like a little girl. Yes, he'd prepared himself for her mood swings, he'd thought, yet he'd never encountered one that made her so hungry and lustful for him, and he knew not what to make of it now, did not know whether he ought to appease Éponine or deny her.

She drew him closer to her, and then breathed across his dry lips, "I will go mad if we have to wait months. Here, feel." Éponine took his hand without warning, guiding it quickly between her legs and through her open drawers, to the area where her thighs met. Before he could do anything to stop Éponine, she pressed one of his fingers inside her, urging him to feel the heat of her desire, and the moment he did, he tensed. She was dripping wet – wetter than he'd ever felt – and the moisture was so abundant that it was nearly beginning to leak down the insides of her thighs, coating his fingers completely and causing him to stir against his will within his trousers. At the feeling of his touch, Éponine inhaled sharply and struggled to remain upright, holding onto Javert tightly as her knees weakened and her body raged with lust.

"See?" she whispered, as her eyes closed and her head lolled to one side, "Oh, take me, please. I need you…so badly."

Though he was far from a weak-willed man, Javert found himself unable to refuse Éponine when she was nearly jumping on him, pleading for him to touch her, as though, if he did not, she would expire right there before him. They'd not made love in months, and the abstinence had been no easier for him than it was for Éponine, yet he'd done it because he'd believed it was what they must do to ensure the wellbeing of the coming child – and that, surely, was more important than satiating their carnal desires. He would not deny that the feeling of her wetness had not aroused him slightly, because it had, and certainly more than just slightly; his manhood was throbbing now, aching for attention. The thought of her remaining here by herself, thinking of him, desperate for his touch and awaiting his return, stirred even more desire within him, and he could do nothing to fight her now, when she was so ready and willing to lay with him, her sex dripping wet, pining for his presence inside her.

"Very well," he took a breath, "I will be… gentle."

Éponine nodded frantically, grabbing onto his shirt and leading him toward the bedroom with her lips pressed firmly against his. Though she did not want him to be gentle with her at all, she knew it would be what was best in her delicate condition, and so she made no objections as they entered their little bed chamber and closed their door behind them hurriedly. With a surprising amount of strength, she pulled him over to the bed, fell down upon it, and tugged him down along with her, but he caught himself before he fell on Éponine and urged her to straddle him instead, knowing that his weight might very well crush her burgeoning stomach if he remained on top. She complied eagerly, seizing his lips with a moan and grinding her pelvis against him urgently, encouraging the hardness between his legs to grow. She made a constant stream of short, high-pitched noises against his mouth, and, after hardly a minute of kissing him, she reached for his hands and placed them on her back, urging him to disrobe her without a word and rid her of her irksome clothing. Silently, he complied, unlacing her undergarments with deft fingers and tossing them aside, then looking on in silence when her nude form became visible atop him.

Since they'd not made love in so long, he'd not seen her fully naked in months, and when he rid her of her undergarments and cast them carelessly onto the floor, he saw for the first time the changes that being with child had brought about in her body. Her face was fuller, and it seemed to him that she had a sort of radiance about her; her hair seemed shinier, her skin smoother and looking almost as if it had a faint glow to it. His eyes fell to her chest, then, and he could not help but notice how swollen her breasts had become in so short a span of time; they had been small and pleasingly round before, of course, yet now, as he reached up and cupped one of them, it filled the palm of his hand entirely, and he nearly moaned aloud as he felt the true fullness of her endowments. Gently, he brushed his finger over her hardened nipple, and she tipped her head back, groaning impatiently as he teased her and drove her even closer to the point of madness. Finally, he lowered his gaze to her stomach, and looked upon it in contemplative silence for a long moment. It was not exceptionally big, yet it was not at all inconspicuous either, and stuck out quite obviously on her slight frame. He did not know quite why, but the idea that it had been him, his seed, that had made her swell and grow ripe with pregnancy loosed a low growl from his throat, and he grew harder still beneath her, his member twitching and aching in its fabric confines.

Éponine shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, taking his growl to mean that he disapproved of the changes in her body and lowering her eyes, "I know. I've gotten fat."

"No," he hissed, pulling her down to him and threading his large fingers through her long, dark tresses, "You have never been more beautiful."

He silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues entangling with one another as she moaned and squealed into his mouth, eager to further things beyond simply kissing. Slyly, he moved his hand down between her legs once more, and ever-so-slowly, traced his finger around her soaked opening and relished in the feeling of her arousal – arousal that'd come from merely thinking of him, he realized with a moan; from thinking of him and fantasizing about his touch. Éponine gasped, tossing her head back and bunching up the fabric of his shirt in her hands with frustration. Yearning for some amount of stimulation, she began to grind herself against his fingers, and it took him a moment to realize that she was nearly riding his hand, desperately trying to pull any part of him into her warm, wet depths. As she did so, he raised his mouth to the valley between her breasts and kissed her there tenderly, then moved his lips to her left breast and teased her there with his mouth as well, laying a trail of kisses from one side to the other, then pausing briefly on her hardened nipple and running his tongue over it languidly. This seemed to finally send her over the edge, and, deciding she'd had more than enough foreplay, she grabbed hold of his hands and pinned them down on either side of his shoulders with a petulant scowl.

"Stop it," she bit out, her voice surprisingly steady, "I'm carrying your child. Be nice to me."

Ever so gently, he reached up and brushed his hand across her protruding stomach, marveling at the thought that the babe within her was of his blood; an idea he still could not fully wrap his head around. She shivered at his touch, and in that instant, all he did was marvel at the girl before him. He would not deny that he found her pregnant form attractive; to Javert, it proved he was still virile, perfectly capable of siring children, and it pleased the animal within him more than he could ever say. Deciding to indulge Éponine and give in to her desires, he heaved himself up onto his knees, nudging her off to the side and coming to kneel just before the end of the bed. Then, he reached out and pulled her close to him, resting her legs on his shoulders and taking hold of his length, guiding it across her damp nether regions with a shaking hand. When he brushed it against her clit, she cried out loudly and arched her back, growing wetter still and moaning his name loudly, with a note of growing frustration in her voice.

"Do it," she panted as beads of sweat pushed up through her pores and trickled down her forehead. When he simply continued to tease her, she growled and raised her voice, "Do it!"

All at once, without warning, he obliged, thrusting his hips forward and entering her at such a great depth that his entire body seemed to grow weak at once, and his mind became numb. He froze, a low, choked moan escaping his lips as he felt her tight sex enveloping him, taking him in with all eagerness. The feeling of her wetness, her undeniable yearning for him, nearly sent him over the edge, and it took him a moment before he found himself able to continue. When he did, he entered her again slowly, at a gentle, leisurely pace, overwhelmingly aware that he ought not be too rough with her or hurt her in any way. Éponine, however, was quick to express her dissatisfaction with being taken so slowly, as her body was aching almost painfully for more, to be taken roughly, without a hint of tenderness at all.

"Harder," she cried, digging her fingernails into his hips and trembling with the force of her pleasure. She moaned, rocking her head from side to side, "Faster!"

Though he knew it was perhaps unwise in her condition, he obeyed, and began to dive in and out of her quicker, taking hold of her legs and tugging him close to him each time he did so, so that their bodies moved together in a steady, blissful rhythm. Éponine, meanwhile, was releasing a constant stream of shrieks, whimpers, and pleas for him to go faster – and he could tell that, after hardly a minute, she was already nearing her climax, desperate for him as she'd been before. He made up his mind, then, to make her come harder for him that she'd ever come before, to give her mind-numbing, overwhelming ecstasy, as if to thank for her carrying their child, for holding this piece of them in her body. He longed to hear her screaming his name after being deprived of their lovemaking for far too long, and he sped up even more, abandoning all restraints and giving up trying to be overly gentle with her.

For Éponine, it was all too much too quickly; the feeling of his length pounding into her, hard, thick, swelling with desire; the throbbing between her legs and the inferno raging in her sex, inching her closer and closer to the epitome of all bliss; the idea that he was soon to reach his peak as well, releasing his seed into her, just as he'd done before to give her their child. After hardly a second of being taken in this manner, Éponine let go and nearly sobbed as the pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave, sucking her under so strongly that she could scarcely breathe or form coherent thought. Her body shook, the very heart of her trembling with the immense power of her climax, which was unlike any she'd ever felt before. She did not know what it was, why this pleasure was so divine, so different to any she'd ever felt before, but she adored it, and rode the waves of her ecstasy with a series of low, hoarse moans, her hands grabbing onto the sheets beneath her. Her climax was not short-lived, either, for Javert was sure to make it last as long as he could, thrusting into her even as her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him as far into her sex as he could go and closing in around him tightly.

After a heavenly minute, Éponine fell down from her high and returned to earth, only to find that Javert had not yet met his own end, and so, like he had for her, she endeavored to please him as well, to give him bliss like that which he'd given her.

"You love it, don't you?" she purred, giving him a coy little half-smirk. He made a sound of confusion, as though he hadn't a clue what she was talking about, and she let a hand fall to her belly, tracing it absentmindedly as she spoke, "Knowing that it was you…who did this to me. Your seed, that made me this way."

Yes, he thought as his pace quickened even more, diving into Éponine with abandon, he could not deny it. He loved to see her like this, her body swollen with child; his child. It brought out the basest, most primitive desires in him – desires he'd never felt before – but innate, human desires he could do little to combat. With a low, rumbling moan that made him sound as though he was some kind of savage beast claiming its mate, he came inside her, his eyes squeezed closed as he emptied himself into Éponine, his body pounding with lust and satisfaction. She was his, he thought in the back of his mind as his immense possessiveness of Éponine took control. She was his, with his child in her belly, and as far as he was concerned in that instant, she would never be anyone else's, so long as he was living. To have taken her, given her a child, and claimed her for his own felt immensely gratifying to Javert, and as his climax ebbed and then eventually ceased altogether, he crawled up near the pillows of the bed and collapsed onto them, satisfied and exhausted by their sex.

Just as tired as he was, Éponine pulled herself up next to Javert and fell down onto the pillow as well, breathing hard, her swollen endowments rising and falling with each panicked inhalation. It took her a minute or so to recover her voice, and once she had, she looked over at him and grinned, "You…a-are very good at that." They were silent for a moment, until she moved closer to him and pressed her forehead against his, "Tell me…that we will not have to wait months to do this again."

"I should not have been so rough," he managed to say, silently reprimanding himself for having such deplorable self-control, "I might have harmed the-"

"No," she shook her head fervently, "I feel fine. _We_ feel fine. I promise."

Knowing how stubborn Éponine was – and how unlikely she would be to stay away from him even if he asked her to – Javert shook his head, "No. We will not have to wait."

Again, they lapsed into silence, until Javert noticed Éponine's face fall, and he furrowed his brow, asking without a word what was bothering her. She flattened her lips into a line, fear bleeding into her eyes all at once, "Sometimes I'm afraid. Afraid of being…a mother." She almost scoffed at the idea, "A mother! I'm not the kind of person who should be a mother. "

"Sometimes I fear I am not suited for fatherhood, either," he confessed, his voice deep, throaty.

"You are the best man I've ever known. Of course you are." She paused, lowering her eyes, "But sometimes I wonder if I'll be like my mother, e-even if I try not to-"

"You will not be like her," he told her firmly, "You are better than those you have left behind."

She smiled, and they lay together in contented quiet for a while, until Éponine made a soft noise of surprise and placed a hand on her stomach, shifting on the bed and looking down at the curve of her belly.

Concerned that something was amiss, he frowned and began to sit up, "What is it?"

"It's moving," she told him with a grin, then reached for his hand and brought it towards her with a laugh, "Here."

In that instant, he froze completely, unsure what to do, but Éponine was quick to do it for him, and pressed his large hand up against her abdomen, searching for a moment to find where the stirring was at its strongest and then holding it there firmly, lacing their fingers together on her bare skin. When his mind registered the gentle movements beneath his palm, he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his stomach in knots. He'd never felt the child move before; since he worked so often, he was away whenever it quickened, and though Éponine had often described to him what it felt like, he realized, then, that he was entirely unprepared to feel it himself. The movements were light, almost imperceptible deep inside her body, yet to Javert, each one felt like a tiny earthquake beneath his fingers, shattering his world and changing everything each time the gentle bumps and kicks commenced. In that moment, he was stunned, unable to move or think clearly, and he was conscious only of the little flutters within Éponine, mesmerized and yet completely terrified by the feeling.

"It's never moved this much before," she told him sleepily, her eyelids beginning to droop with exhaustion, "Maybe it knows your touch." She noticed that he seemed troubled, then, and frowned, "What is it?"

"I should not be a father," he said after a moment, a deep scowl tugging at his lips as self-doubt began to creep into his chest once more, "You know well the kind of man I am."

"Yes, I do. I know what kind of man you are," she told him softly, laying a tender hand upon his cheek, "You are loyal. Devoted. You'd never do something if you believed it was wrong. You'd _never_ break a rule." She stopped to think, tilting her head to one side, "You're cold sometimes, and sometimes you're frightening. Sometimes you've got a temper too. But then…" she stopped to take a breath, "other times you're very kind, and always respectful. You are good to me. Very good." Éponine smiled, chuckling under her breath, "And sometimes you spoil me. Pamper me. Make love to me gently, tenderly." She sat up a little, then declared firmly, "Yes, Inspector, I know what kind of man you are. You… are the greatest man I know."

To hear her speak of him in such a way brought about a feeling of great comfort within Javert, and though he did not smile – for he seldom did – Éponine knew when he wrapped a firm arm around her and pulled her close to him that her words had consoled him greatly.

"I am not prepared," he said suddenly, with a contemplative scowl on his face once more.

At that, Éponine only shrugged, "I'm not either, I think. But we got ourselves into this mess." She rested her head against his chest, then, after a moment, hummed happily against his skin, "Hmm…And it's quite a wonderful mess indeed."


End file.
